Can't Help Myself
by MrsBiteMe
Summary: Tug & pull ... As teenagers, Edward and Bella's relationship was all-consuming, yet self-destructive. Now, as adults, will the connection they still feel be enough to pick up the pieces of a love they thought was lost? AH. E/B. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__Ok, I'm trying something new here: daily updates. My goal is to posting something every day, or at the very least, every other day. Some chapters may be very short, some may be long, whatever. This will also be unbeta'd. I hope you enjoy it either way. _

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 1

Our story has been told before. It's one of love and loss, of devotion and devastation.

It began when we were young, just barely into our awkward teenage years, and yet the emotions we felt were far more appropriate for that of an adult.

We were too young to understand.

Of course I understand now. The years have matured me and have given me plenty of time to analyze the finer points in our unusual relationship.

I've had more than a considerable amount of time to let go and move, to release myself of the past and all the emotional baggage it entails. I'd been foolish enough to even think I had.

The sight of you tells me just how wrong I really am.

You're older, yet very much the same as I remember.

Your hair is the same – wild and unruly, glowing with flecks of red in the sunlight that reflects off the silky strands. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch it, like I used to. _You liked it, didn't you? _

It's the suit you're wearing that throws me because I've only ever seen you in worn out jeans and t-shirts that were generally closer to scrap fabric than being considered presentable.

I can tell by the way you stand that you've changed as well. The posture is too stiff, too straight. It's no longer the slouching, carefree stance of a young teenager.

If it weren't for the more pressing reason that we're both in the same place, at the same time, for the first time in eight years, I might have taken in more than the obvious details. I might have even focused more on the electricity that seems to buzz between us.

It hasn't faded in the slightest.

But I do remember why we're here, why I'm dressed in my best, most formal black dress I own.

The tears flow freely, but they're not for my former lover. Instead I cry for a man much more important to me life: my father.

My hero.

My protector.

Gone.

I cry because I miss him, and I cry a little more because I've shut him out of my life far more than I should have. Part of me wants to blame the man I know still has his eyes on me, but it's more my own fault than anything. I only have myself to blame. _I could never blame you anyway._

Pastor Weber speaks with kind words about the man in the casket before me. I smile, though half-heartedly, when he mentions my father's love of weekend fishing trips and Wednesday's steak and potato dinner at the diner.

My dad was a man of comfort and little change.

I think I'm like him in that way, never accepting the new because the old is familiar – easier.

It's just another reason on the list for why things are the way they are.

When Pastor Weber finishes he looks to me, but I'm not sure I can speak in front of all these people. We're outside in the one small cemetery Forks has, and it seems that the entire town has come to mourn their beloved Chief of police.

I know I should speak, if only a few words, so I swallow the lump in my throat and take my place at the head of the casket. My hands are shaking considerably so I ball them into fists in hopes that no one can notice. I know youwill. You know me so well.

"I'm Bella, Charlie's daughter," I start out, then chuckle, "though you all probably know that already." A few small laughs can be heard from the crowd. Their laughter eases some of my nervousness, and I force my chin up in order to make eye contact.

I will be strong.

"My father wasn't one to show his affections openly. We didn't say I love you every day, nor did we hug or have heartfelt conversations with one another. Charlie had his own silent way of letting me know he cared, and I never doubted his love for me." My eyes find yoursas I say this, and I will you to find the meaning behind them as I continue to speak. "We're a lot alike in that way."

"I wish we'd had more time together," my voice cracks slightly as I say this. "Living so far from him as I was growing up was hard, and I wish I'd spent more time with this wonderful man rather than on the petty teenaged things I found important at the time."

I look away from the crowd because this is getting too personal.

I take a deep breath, determined to continue even though my lower lip is quivering fiercely. "One thing I know for certain is that he will always be remembered as the respectable father, friend, and officer that he was."

I can take no more. The tears are coming in rivets down my cheeks making speaking coherently impossible. My feet feel heavy, disjointed from my body, and I wish I hadn't worn heels. I stumble slightly as I begin to walk away but thankfully I do not fall.

My fingers caress the casket at my side as I make my way around the side of it. It's simple, yet elegant; just as Charlie would've wanted.

I press my fingers to my lips briefly and then place them atop the cool surface.

"I love you Daddy," I whisper quietly.

The service is over, and everyone slowly makes their way back to their cars, though most stop to offer condolences before parting. I smile as best I can and hug more people than I am comfortable touching, but I know they mean well so I suffer through it.

You haveyet to make your way over to me. I would've thought you'd left already if not for the ever-present tingle I can still feel with your presence. I wonder if time will ever make it go away. So far, it has not.

Then I wonder if I will miss the feeling if it were to leave.

Now is not the time to ponder such thoughts, and I am forced to focus on shaking hands with yet another group of people who loved my father.

Eventually I realize that you have no plans to approach me, and I know I will not near you with so many others around. I seek you out with my eyes. It does not take long before I am held captive in your stare. Your eyes hold so many emotions, none of which I can decipher.

I have long since lost the ability to read your expressions. It makes me frown.

You tilt your head towards me in acknowledgement, offering me your own form of condolence, and I accept it for what it is. All past hurt and heartache aside, you know best what losing a father is like. You understand the emotions I am feeling at the loss of someone who held such a significant role in my life.

There is a lunch being held at Harry Clearwater's, my father's other best friend, and I would be expected to show up soon. Billy persuades me to ride with so I do. I follow him to his car, and I do not bother to look back until we are pulling away from the curb and onto the street.

You are already gone when I do.

_**An: **__Please review? I'd like to know what you think so far. ;) _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__This chapter takes a look at the very first time Bella ever went to Forks. I haven't decided yet, but most likely chapters will flip between present and past on a regular basis. Enjoy._

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 2

_**Eleven year earlier …**_

The summer breeze filters through the car windows as we drive. The air is chilly compared to the hot, dry sun I am used to in Phoenix. I slide my eyes closed as the wind caresses my face. "Is it always this cold?" I ask quietly, opening my eyes only long enough to glance at my father in the driver seat.

He nods. "You get used to it," is his casual response. I can tell he's as nervous as I am, so I smile reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will."

It's been too long since I've last seen him – six months at least. Even then it had only been for a few days, a stark contrast to the first eleven years of my life that we'd lived together. It was only two summers ago that Charlie had lived in Phoenix with my mother and I.

I could tell they were unhappy in their marriage, I'd known for years. It was no surprise to me when they sat me down to explain their impending divorce. The only thing I hadn't expected was for my father to move so far away.

It was understandable, since he'd grown up in the state of Washington, but it was something I struggled to come to terms with. In fact, it had taken months for me to convince myself that I wasn't the reason behind his sudden departure, and several more weeks before I could bring myself to answer his phone calls. That was why this summer was my first one I'd traveled to see him instead of the other way around.

Charlie was trying to show enthusiasm about my visit, but I knew he was weary of my reaction. I could tell by his cautious words and tentative questions about how I'd like to spend my time. His smile when he picked me up from the airport was genuine enough, however, and I knew I'd have to try harder to put his mind at ease.

I hear him clear his throat as he makes another attempt at conversation. We still have a bit of a drive ahead of us, according to him anyway. "So, uh, how was school Bells? Do okay on your report card and all that?" My face is turned once again so that it is slightly outside the window. I'm taking in the scent of fresh air; it brings a smile to my lips.

A moment passes before I respond, and even then I don't bother to open my eyes. "It's the seventh grade Dad, nothing special."

He sighs, but doesn't push the questions further.

"You know, you keep hanging your head out the window like that and you're likely to get rained on," he comments instead.

I snort in a very unladylike fashion, not answering, but I do open my eyes, leaning back in my seat, and then close the glass that will protect me from any stray raindrops.

"Does that happen a lot here? Rain, I mean?" I ask.

Charlie only smiles and nods when I glance over. "Sure does, every day."

He says it like he enjoys such miserable weather.

This time I can't help but groan and throw my head back against the seat. "Great," I mutter sarcastically. Maybe this wasn't the greatest idea after all.

It's another hour before we pull in front of a small, white two-story house.

When I first got into the car, or rather my dad's work cruiser, Charlie had told me he had a surprise for me. Now, two and a half hours later, I was desperately hoping the old, worn house in the middle of the woods where it rains every day is not the surprise he had in mind.

My thirteen-year-old self is not impressed.

"I love it," I lie.

Charlie smiles widely, and I know I've done the right thing by pretending that him owning a house I've never lived in isn't weird at all. If I had it my way then both my parents would live in Phoenix, within walking distance, so I could see them both whenever I'd like.

He steps out of the car and moves around to the trunk, pulling out my scare amount of bags I've brought with me. I follow suit, offering my assistance but Charlie shoos me away.

"I've got it kid, you can head on in." His hands are full so he jerks his head towards the front door. "It should be unlocked, and my bet is that your surprise is lurking just inside the door." He laughs at his own comment, leaving me curious.

I take step forward, but then pause. "You don't like your doors?"

He shakes his head. "No need. It isn't like Forks is crawling with criminals. This isn't the city."

_Just how small is this town? _I wonder, but then a high-pitched squealing noise breaks my train of thought and I cringe.

"BELLLLLAA!"

I hear her before I see her, and it's not a moment later that someone slams into me – _hard._

I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Alice?" I ask in disbelief when I've regained my balance. The sound is muffled slightly since my face is currently trapped against her shoulder as she hugs me tightly.

She pulls back enough to allow me a good look at her face. "No, it's your other favorite cousin," she deadpans. Alice's mom is Charlie's sister, and we'd grown up spending our summers together in Phoenix when Alice would come to visit. Some holidays were spent together as well, but I hadn't seen her face-to-face in almost two years.

Way too long in my opinion.

Charlie passes us, suitcases in tow, shaking his head.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you're here!" I squeal, fully registering that my closest friend, and _favorite cousin of all, _is here in front of me. "I've missed you so much."

This time I pull her in for a hug, though I don't try to suffocate her as she tried with me.

"Surprise!" She shouts next to my ear, and I cringe for the second time. Alice never did know when to tone it down. Then again, I wasn't much better most days.

Call it a side effect of being a teenager.

Our arms link at the elbow as we make our way into the house, equal smiles of happiness plastered on our faces.

"So you're my surprise?" I question dumbly, just wanting to make sure I understand right.

"Yep!" She confirms. "I'll be here for the next two weeks."

_This vacation just got a whole lot more tolerable._

Her voice drops to a whisper as she continues, "I think Uncle Charlie thought it'd be easier on the two of you if you had a friend around."

She's right, it will make things easier. The close relationship my father and I had in Phoenix prior to my parents' divorce no longer exists. Sometimes it takes effort just to have a simple conversation.

I silently thank Charlie for giving me the gift of my best friend. Perhaps he still knows me better than I think he does.

The inside of the house isn't much better than the outside, but it does remind me of my father. It's simple, minimally decorated. He has a beat up old couch and recliner in the living room, a round oak table with four mismatching chairs in the kitchen, and I imagine the feminine yellow paint with matching rose wallpaper border was left behind from the previous owner.

Alice shows me around while Charlie, I assume, places my bags upstairs.

My assumption is confirmed when we hear his footsteps coming back downstairs. "Okay Bells, I've placed your bags in the spare room upstairs. You girls will be sharing a room, though I don't think you'll mind."

We shake our heads in unison. Even if he had put us in separate rooms we would've shared because I never got to spend time with my cousin, and we had much to catch up on.

Later, when we're both tucked in bed – me on the small twin, her on the trundle bed below – we catch up on school , our parents, _boys. _

The last one is a new topic for us because boys are something we've only just recently started to admire in a way that is not followed by "the cootie shot."

"Oh Bella," she sighs dreamily, "just wait until you meet your new neighbor."

I lean over the side of the bed and quirk one eyebrow. "Oh really? Why's that?"

She makes a show of pulling an invisible zipper across her lips and tossing the key away. "Uh oh, I'm not saying a word." I roll my eyes because Alice has never been one to keep her mouth shut.

"Whatever," I say, flopping back onto my pillow.

"Good night Bella Bear," she sings at me through a yawn. I smile at the nickname she's used since we were kids.

"'Nite Ally Cat," I whisper in return.

Snuggling into the covers I can hear a roll of thunder in the distance, and the rain begins a tapping lullaby on the one window in my new, tiny room. I fall into a restless, dream-filled sleep to the steady beat.

_**An: **__Don't worry, Edward will return next chapter, and most likely he'll be in every single one following. Reviews let me know what you think. _

_If you think this story is going to be too heavy for you I've posted a drabble fic that's my first attempt at fluff. It should prove humorous. It's called__** Clique**__. Also, you can follow me on twitter. I'm __**Mrs_Bite_Me**__._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it._

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 3

_**Present …**_

The Clearwater's house is crowded, and I fight the urge to run the minute I've stepped through the door. There are too many people in too small a space.

Sue, Harry's wife, smiles at me the moment she sees me walk in. I think she knows how uncomfortable I am.

"Bella, honey, why don't you come sit over here," she says, her arm is wrapped around my shoulders, guiding me towards a chair in a corner that is surprisingly void of people. Most have gone into the kitchen for food or drinks, and I am so very grateful to be left alone for even just a short while.

I am not sitting long before a familiar face is entering my solitude. Her features resemble those of my father so much that I'm taken aback for a moment.

I briefly wonder why I don't remember seeing her at the grave site. Then again, I don't remember much about the service except seeing my father's coffin before me … and you.

It doesn't seem fair that on a day such as this you should be occupying my thoughts at all, but you do.

You always do.

My Aunt Mary reaches me, and I stand up to receive her with a heartfelt hug. "I'm so sorry sweetie," she cries softly into my shoulder, hugging me closer. My eyes instantly well up as I hold her just as tight.

"Thank you," I whisper quietly. I'm afraid if I speak any louder my voice will break.

She pulls back, dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex she holds in her hand.

I've missed my aunt over the years almost as much as I've missed my father. She's the one who stood up for us when Charlie tried to stop me from seeing you. _Do you remember?_

Somehow, I don't doubt you do.

I bite my lip before I ask the question burning at the back of my throat. "Is um, is Alice here?"

My aunt looks at me lovingly, her eyes kind and understanding. It makes me want to crawl into her lap the way I did as a child. She reminds me so much of Charlie that I can't foresee saying goodbye in order to return home.

She shakes her head, and I my shoulders slump.

"She wanted to be here, but her flight was delayed and she just couldn't make it time. The plane arrives this evening, so I'm sure you'll see her first thing tomorrow so we can start on …"

Her voice trails, but I know what she's planning to say. So we can start on going through my father's things. It's soon, however, I don't have long to take off from work and I know it would be an awful thing to do let his belongings sit abandoned.

"I understand."

My voice is detached, defeated. I stare at the floor.

Soft fingers brushed my cheek lovingly, coaxing me to look up. "It'll be okay. Alice forgives you."

The woman always had great intuition and somehow she knows exactly what I need to hear. With those final parting words Aunt Mary makes her way back into the crowd of people, once again leaving me on my own.

A knot has formed in the pit of my stomach because Alice is yet another regret I hold on to. It has been at least a year since I've last heard from her; just a few short words via email. No phone calls, no text messages.

I wonder if she even has my number anyway.

She didn't deserve to be cut out of my life, but I just … I didn't know what else to do at the time.

No amount of blaming on stupid immaturity could take back the horrible things I said to her years ago, but I wish I could.

I want my friend back.

Now is not the time to dwell on my past mistakes, however, so I focus my attention on the room.

I'd get something to eat, as that seems the thing to do, but I know my stomach wouldn't accept anything more than a glass of water right now. I go into the kitchen anyway, hoping to make myself useful now that it has cleared of the crowd some.

Families are leaving to go back to their own homes, having done the required duty of paying their respects.

I am grateful for their departure. It made it so I had less people to pretend for.

Only a few stay people are left mingling in the living room, yet I'm still hiding out in the kitchen, alone.

I'm elbow deep in dish water when I hear the kitchen door swing open.

"Really, Sue, I don't mind washing a few dishes," I call out over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off the plate I'm scrubbing furiously. She'd already come to check on me twice, and both times I'd told her to go.

"I'd say that's quite a bit more than a few."

Your voice is deep, matured, but I'd recognize it anywhere. Eight years without the sound has been far too long.

The now clean plate falls from my grip and drops to the bottom of the sink with a clatter. My body is frozen, tense from anticipation. Trying to hide the fact your voice affects me so strongly would be failure because I am an open book to you, even now.

"I still don't mind," I say softly. I don't want to speak louder and possibly scare you away.

Carefully I pick up the plate and rinse it, but before I can set it on the counter to dry you step closer and remove it from my hand. You are careful not to touch my skin, and a small pain aches in my chest with the knowledge.

I am not used to you being close enough to touch, yet so very far from my reach. It's a personal torture I'd wish upon no one.

With a towel in one hand and the plate in the other you dry each dish I pass you. We're quiet as we work.

There is so much that needs to be said, questions that need to be asked.

_Later._

It's a silent promise that another day, somewhere more private, is when we will discuss those things.

From the corner of my eye I see you open your mouth, only to close it seconds later.

I am patient as you chose the words you want to ask. "I didn't see Jasper at the funeral."

It's a statement, not a question.

It also doesn't escape my notice that instead of mentioning Alice, you've mentioned her husband. You're probably afraid of my reaction if you had asked about the former. I know who you really mean, though, so I answer accordingly.

"Alice's flight was late, she'll be here tonight."

The fact you don't comment on my response, only nod, let's me know I've assumed your meaning correctly.

I long for the days when the four of us – Alice, me, you, and Jasper – spent our summers together, inseparable. Sadly, with time you grow up, and in our case, apart.

We're done with the dishes much quicker than I'd like to be. I'm not ready to leave your side yet.

I may be masochistic, but I crave the closeness despite knowing you are no longer mine. I'm untrusting of my hands not to reach out and touch you in some way as they crave to do, so I busy myself with wiping down the already clean countertops.

Your hands are buried deep in your pockets, and I wonder secretly if you're fighting the same urges that I am.

The suit jacket I saw you wearing earlier is lying neatly across the back of a kitchen chair, and the sleeves of your neatly pressed button-down shirt are rolled up near your elbows. Somehow the look makes you look a little more like your younger self, and it makes me smile.

The younger version of you is one I am comfortable with. It's a version my very soul knows intimately.

"I didn't think you'd come today," I blurt suddenly, and then I want to slap myself. It sounds rude, like I don't think you care.

However, if you're surprised by my question you don't show it.

Just like I'm not surprised by the answer I receive.

"I didn't think I would either."

_**An: **__I've gotten a lot of alerts and very few reviews. Won't you please let me know what you think?_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__I apologize for the no updates thing this past weekend. Hubs took me on a mini vacation to celebrate my b-day. It was such a great, relaxing, kid-free weekend, that I decided to not bother with my laptop. Anyway, let's meet Edward, shall we? _

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 4

_**Back to the past …**_

The first thing I realize is that Forks is very different than Phoenix. Charlie wasn't lying about the rain.

It's unrelenting. My first full day in the dreary town and the sky is pouring buckets. I guess it's only fair that the weather matches my mood about being so far from home.

Phoenix is home for me, no matter where my father might live.

Alice is the only thing that makes the day better because my cousin makes everything better. Her personality is cheerful and excited, but also boarding on psychotic most days. It is why I love her so much. She perfectly balances out my moody disposition.

As my mother would say: I am the perfect definition of a moody, hostile teenager.

Go figure.

Charlie has to work, but he promises that he'll be home early.

When he leaves, uniform on and gun belt around his waist, I know the real reason Alice is here – my father didn't even take off of work to spend time with me. The realization hurt when he left this morning. Sadly, it is a feeling I am acquainted with quite often when concerning him.

At least for the past two years it case been anyway.

The more childish side of me wants to give him the silent treatment when he gets home, letting him now his absence stings. I came here to visit my father, not stay around the house while he works all day.

However, my mother told me I should behave myself, and I know Alice would not approve of my immature behavior, so instead I try not to think about my father at all throughout the day.

Alice and I spend our free time finishing our girlish talks from the night before as we watch lame made-for-TV movies. The Lifetime channel is our personal favorite, and we spend the day bouncing between laughing our butts off and crying our eyes out.

This channel did us in every time.

We pig out on the junk food Charlie bought for us (or rather, Alice and her mother, my Aunt Mary, bought when Alice arrived two days ago), and then for lunch we attempt grilled cheese sandwiches. Mine is half burnt, but I'm only just learning how to cook so I don't mind too much.

Back in Phoenix, I have to fend for myself most nights since my mom works late. It's been that way since the divorce, but she promises that things will change soon. I'm not sure what that means exactly. If it means I get to see more of my mom though, I can't see it being a bad thing.

"Do you hear that?" Alice asks suddenly.

We're seated on two of the mismatched chairs in Charlie's kitchen.

I pull the sandwich away from my mouth and eye her curiously. I listen, but all I hear is silence.

"No, I don't hear a thing."

She grins widely. "Exactly."

My lips curve upwards as I catch on to her meaning: the rain has finally stopped.

I'm eager to get outside, away from the inside of a house that isn't my home.

Typically I am the furthest thing from an outdoors girl. I much prefer a cozy chair and a good book as a way to spend my time.

There is a small part of me, however, that must admit I am curious about this little town, and exploring a new place sounds much better than sitting around and doing nothing. Having Alice by my side to show me around definitely makes the idea much more pleasant.

Whereas I grew up in the sunny, dry state of Arizona, my cousin was unfortunately enough to have lived in the overcast, wet state of Washington. She was born and raised in the city of Port Angeles, a slightly larger town than Forks that is just under an hour's drive from here.

Or, so she's told me because I have never been to Washington before, let alone Port Angeles. She's used to the spending her days outside, so the wet ground and chilly breeze doesn't affect her in the slightest.

The rain has cooled the temperature down by several degrees, so despite the fact it is summer Alice and I are both wearing jeans and light, long-sleeved tees. There's a large patio with a porch swing attached to the front of Charlie's house, and it is perfect for us to sit on.

We each sit sideways on the swing, our legs crossing over the other in the middle. I breathe in deeply, enjoying the fresh air, though my nose crinkles when I realize it mostly smells of wet grass and trees.

"How can you live here?" I don't mean to sound as rude as I probably do, but I know Alice knows me well enough to look past my less than perfect personality.

She shrugs, not replying one way or the other. Her eyes are closed and her head is tipped back against the arm rest.

I'm about to do the same when I hear a door open and close – well, more like _slam_ – from the house next door.

Alice's words from last night flit through my mind, and I sit up a little straighter, wondering if the person who has stepped outside is the elusive neighbor boy.

I have to shift from side to side a little to get a good view because Alice is sitting directly in my way. She may be very small, but it doesn't make it any easier to see around her. Whoever is over there is sitting on the ledge of their own front porch. One knee is pulled up to their chest while the other dangles freely over the side.

Momentarily I'm worried he's going to fall right off, but then I try to remind myself that he probably sits like that all the time.

My eyes follow the swaying motion of his foot, which most definitely belongs to a kid – he's wearing sneakers, black converse-type ones that are covered in grass stains– his legs seem scrawny but are covered in jeans that have a several visible holes.

His torso is bent over the one knee that he still has pressed against his chest. A snug navy tee covers his upper body which also appears to be as skinny as I am. _Does he eat? _I wonder to myself.

When I move past his shoulders, my steady gaze still soaking in every bit of him, I see he has his head turned in our direction, eyes watching me just as steadily as I am watching him.

At thirteen I had yet to have a boyfriend. There was a kid in my seventh grade class I thought was cute, one of the first and only I had ever had a crush on, but I'd never spoken to him.

This boy, however, is making my stomach flutter and my skin tingle in ways I don't understand. His eyes are intense as they stare at me, and I wonder if he has yet to blink. There's this feeling in the pit of my stomach that tugs, almost painfully, in a want – a _need _– to go speak to him. To reach out to him.

_Anything. _

But I don't know this boy, so I don't move from my seat.

"Edward!" Alice's loud voice startles the both of us, and I watch in horror as "Edward" jumps at the sound and then promptly falls off his spot on the ledge. "Quit being a creeper and get over here to meet my cousin Bella!" She finishes just as shrilly.

_**An: **__Today is my actual birthday, so please leave a review? I hear they make great birthday presents. _


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__What did you think of gangly, teenage Edward last chapter, huh? Not the sexy stud you're used to I bet. Just remember, every good-looking guy was once a less-than-good-looking boy once. Thank you to those who leave reviews. I try to reply as best I can & I very much appreciate your support._

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 5

Fresh morning light shines through an opening in my bedroom curtains and pours across the room. The brightness rouses me from my fretful sleep, though I lie in bed for several minutes before actually getting up.

It had taken me hours to get to sleep in the first place, and a quick glance at the old alarm clock on my bedside table tells me I'd only gotten four hours of sleep in total.

I went to bed relatively early the night before, around ten. After leaving the Clearwater's I wanted nothing more than hole up in my childhood bedroom and wish for the nightmare of my father's absence to be over.

Ideally I wanted to spend forever in that kitchen with you, but after your confession it seemed our moment had passed. You didn't even leave me time to answer before the kitchen door was swinging shut behind you.

The abrupt departure stung, but rather than dwelling on more hurt I simply said my goodbyes and left for home. Only once I arrived at the old, white and weathered house it didn't feel like home because Charlie was not in it.

I was also scared that you might show up at your parent's house, and then I'd have to deal with more awkward, painful conversations.

Of course you didn't, and I spent dinner alone, curled up on my couch.

Various casseroles and dinners had been placed outside on the doorstep ever since my arrival in Forks. I had not managed to eat a single bite all day, and I was famished.

However, when ten o'clock came I trudged upstairs to my old room, careful not to look at anything other than the inviting warm sheets of the bed. I'd made the mistake of looking at the picture-covered tack board and trinket-covered dresser on my first day back, and I had no plans of repeating said mistake.

The only problem was that when I closed my eyes … I thought of you.

Specifically I thought of the day we met. I wondered if I would've felt the same about you if I knew then, what I know now.

Somehow, I don't think even the worst of memories could've keep me from falling for you.

A game of "what if's" began playing in my head, unbidden, with every attempt I made to fall asleep. Pushing away the thoughts proved futile, and eventually I gave up. This game continued for four hours before my body finally gave up and allowed me a slight reprieve.

Six a.m., however, is an ungodly hour to be awake. I curse my window for facing the east and therefore being woken up with the sunrise.

The only thing for me to do is get ready for the day, and then get a head start on sorting through my father's belongings before Aunt Mary and Alice showed. By my estimate I have at least another two hours before their arrival.

After a much needed shower I slip into the comfiest clothes I own.

I plan to save Charlie's bedroom for last because I know it will be the most difficult, so I head to the kitchen instead. The yellow painted walls and floral valance above the sink are nostalgic reminders of my younger years; teenage years spent hating this house only to miss it dearly when I left it last.

The plates, cups, and bowls are boxed away first. I can buy paper ones to use during my stay.

My system for the process is simple: keep, sell, or trash.

There is very little I plan to keep because my place in Jacksonville is not big enough to store much past my own belongings. I do set aside Charlie's favorite coffee mug for the keep pile. It's a blue one that says "World's Greatest Dad" that I bought for him when I was twelve. It wasn't much for a gift, but I paid for it with my babysitting money, and I was proud of the purchase.

A knock on the front door pulls me from the pleasant memory. _Why doesn't she just use her key? _I fleetingly wonder, assuming that my aunt and cousin have now shown up to help.

I grab the handle and swing it open, grumbling a bit as I do. "What are you knocking for?"

Standing on my front step is not my Aunt Mary, or my cousin, Alice, but someone I would never expect to see at my house this early on a Saturday morning. Or at all for that matter.

"Normal people knock before they walk into someone else's home, _Bella._"

The way my name rolls off your tongue makes my legs tremble. It's been so long since I have heard you say it. But then I'm confused, but you being here is the complete opposite of what I expect.

"Can I come in?" You ask politely, motioning for me to step aside and let him pass.

"What are you doing here?"

For the second day in a row I want to smack myself. The words come out accusatorily, and I can't seem to say anything right when I am in your presence.

Your eyebrows raise significantly in surprise. "Aunt Mary didn't tell you?"

I love how you also call her Aunt. _She always insisted that you do. You were as good as family to her._

Now I'm even more confused. "Tell me what?"

One of your hands rubs the back of your neck, which I know is a sign that you're uncomfortable. "She um, she invited me."

My eyes narrow. "When?"

You look sheepish and out of place, and I suddenly feel awful that I'm giving you the third degree.

Once again your hands are stuffed into your pockets, and you glance over your shoulder at your car as if you are considering leaving before this conversation gets anymore awkward.

"I'm sorry, I thought you know. She cornered me last night when I showed up at Harry and Sue's and told that she needed my help … something about heavy lifting."

I smile because that does sound like her. Not to mention she was just as meddlesome as her daughter, and therefore conning you and I into the same house for a day would be something only my aunt could pull off.

As if she'd scheduled it perfectly too, a small blue car pulls into the drive beside Edward's smaller black one. Aunt Mary steps out of the driver side, looking a bit more put together than she did the before. _Not that I blame her. _

When the passenger door opens I brace myself.

For the second time today I am surprised by what I see. When we were younger Alice's hair was the envy of every girl she ever met, including me. It was perfectly straight and hung down to her waist in complete perfection. The woman stepping from the car now looked like Alice, but her hair was cut short, just above her shoulders.

It wasn't just her hair that threw me off guard, however. The moment Alice stepped around the front of the car it was _very _obvious that she was also _pregnant._

I'm not sure if this knowledge makes me want to congratulate her, or cry, but I'm leaning towards a bit of both. Worries about you standing on my doorstep are momentarily forgotten as this new bit of news tries to wrap itself around my brain in a way I can understand.

_Why didn't she tell me?_ I'm aching for the loss of my friend even more now, though this time I allow myself to feel a bit of the pain. You have yet to say a single word, but one glance at your face tells me you had no idea about her current condition either.

"Oh good, Edward, you could make it," Aunt Mary greets as she walks briskly past the pair of us, a box of cleaning supplies in hand. I can see her eyes are still red-rimmed from the tears, but she's smiling today so that is a good sign. Stopping just inside the door, she turns to address him again, "Could you come help me with this box?"

We both know she's trying to allow Alice and me a much needed moment alone. Wordlessly you follow her into the house, but not before asking me with your eyes if it is okay. I nod because I truly want you around, no matter how much it might hurt later.

I step out onto the front step, pulling the front door closed behind me.

Alice smiles timidly. The stark contrast of this greeting compared to others of our past is not lost on me. Any other time and I would be begging for ear plugs as she shrieked and hugged the hell out of me.

Today we are awkward smiles and miles of space between us.

She's quiet because she's allowing me to absorb her news because she knows I'm hurt that she didn't tell me. So I ask her the only think I can think of.

"Why?"

_**An: **__There will be a lot more Edward in the next couple of chapters. I love to hear your thoughts, speculations, etc. so leave me a review to let me know what you think!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__I'm sorry this is a day late. I may or may not have fallen asleep on my laptop last night while attempting to finish. Enjoy!_

_**In the past … (Still 11 years ago)**_

Edward lands on the hard ground with a curse.

I've heard words much worse than his, so I'm not fazed by them in the slightest. If anything, they add to the strange allure the beckons me to know him. I'm intrigued by his care-free appearance and dirty words.

By now I've disentangled myself from Alice on the swing and rushed to the side rail to peer over, nearly tripping over my own two feet in my haste. I'm holding my breath that he's okay, and I sigh in relief when he stands, brushing at the newly marked mud stains on his jeans. His lips are moving quietly, silent grumblings my ears strain to hear.

Only her right eye is opened and it appraises me curiously. I ignore it.

"Geez Alice," I chastise, "way to try to kill him before you even have the chance to introduce us."

Both eyes are open now, and she rolls them at my dramatics. She appears nonplused by the result her screeching had caused. I love my cousin, but she's _loud_.

"How'd you know he was over there anyway? You weren't even looking."

She waves me off like I've asked the world's stupidest question. "Psh, that's easy. Only Edward would slam the front door because I know for a fact that Mr. and Mrs. Cullen are far too nice of people to do something so rude," she pauses for effect, grinning at me slyly. "Not to mention I saw you ogling him like you wanted to eat him or something."

The heat fills my face as I blush profusely. I'm tempted to deny her accusation, but I'm distracted by the sound of feet stomping roughly up the front steps.

"Dammit Alice, don't you know what an inside voice is. You scared the shit out of me."

His voice is not that of a man's yet, but it still causes the pull in my stomach to tug a little harder. I'm overcome with bubbling nerves, though I'm unsure why. I don't understand this feeling I'm having towards a boy I do not know.

"Silly boy, of course I do," Alice responds in a sing-song voice. "But I'm not inside, now am I?"

She's smiling at him sweetly, and for some reason - I don't like it.

Instead I watch him, all the while hoping my blazing red cheeks are hidden behind the curtain of hair I allow to hang in front of my face. He's appears older than I thought before, though maybe just a couple years more than Alice and myself.

And unlike when I watched him across the yard, Edward is now close enough to see the splatter of freckles that decorate his cheeks and nose. _I like him. _I think to myself.

Introductions have yet to be made, but I'm more interested in the friendly banter playing out before me. _How do they know each other?_

Edward's barely constraining a smile. "I believe I told you before," he explains. "When you're outside, pretend that you're inside. And when you're inside, pretend you're visiting the library. That away the rest of us can still retain our hearing by the time we're twenty. M'kay?"

I'm giggling then because the vision of Alice in a library is absolutely ridiculous to me. I'm the bookworm, not her. _Wait, told her before? So they do know each other?_

Alice sticks her tongue out at him in a stellar move of maturity. By now Edward has given up his mock irritation and grins openly. Meanwhile my eyes can't seem to stray from his lips. His smile makes his otherwise rough, geeky appearance morph into something much cuter.

My skin tingles in a strange way then. It's something I've never felt before, like a prickling pain that doesn't hurt. When I glance back at Edward his eyes are trained on mine, and my cheeks redden all over again.

Between the embarrassed blush caused by being caught looking at him and the tingly skin caused by _him _looking at _me, _I'm hopelessly overwhelmed.

_Is this what the girls at school talked about? _

I'd heard from girls who had boyfriends gossip in the locker room of my gym class sometimes. They were just as bad as the high school boys you hear about, really. But they'd mentioned that when you supposedly find _the One _you'll just know because it will be like your skin has been lit on fire, in a good way, when he looks at you.

At the time I'd ignored their words, though I was secretly hopeful that I could find someone who made me feel like that, one day. It never crossed my mind that that day could be today when I am still this young.

If only my mom were here so I could ask her about it.

Alice speaks up then, much to my appreciation. "Edward, this is my cousin Bella." Edward gives me a crooked grin, kind of like a smirk, and my legs suddenly feel like a pile of goo. It's another feeling I'm not accustomed to.

"Bella, this is your neighbor, Edward."

The next words are off my tongue before I can stop them. "Charlie's neighbor, not mine." My petulant teenage attitude has reared its ugly head.

Alice and Edward both raise their eyebrows at my outburst. "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just mean that I live in Phoenix, so this isn't really my house. Therefore you're not exactly my neighbor, are you?" This time I've managed to apologize and insult him all over again.

_Get it together Bella, _I chastise myself.

To my surprise Edward laughs. "I guess you're right then, _Bella._"

It's the first time he's said my name, and the fluttering butterflies and surge of energy dancing along my skin tells me I like it. In fact, I'd kinda like him to say it again.

Instead I settle for just finding a way to hear him speak some more because I want to know everything about him. I ignore my cousin for a moment and settle the question I'm burning to ask on Edward. "How do you two know each other?"

"Well, it turns out that your cousin over there has the "hots" for my best friend." His hands slip into his front pockets as he rocks on his heels and grins at Alice.

I'm torn between relief that Alice doesn't know him because she's interested him, and the revealed fact that she has a crush on someone else … and didn't tell me.

I turn to my blushing cousin, smirking at the fact it's her for once and not me. "Oh really?"

"Don't look at me like that! I was going to tell you!" I quirk an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. "Okay, maybe not, but you would've found out when you meet him tomorrow."

Edward laughs and I can't help but join in.  
>"Oh hush you two," Alice points her finger between the two of us, only succeeding in making us both laugh at her harder.<p>

It feels like Edward and I have been friends for years instead of minutes, and I understand immediately why Alice wanted me to meet him.

"So, Bella? Has Alice showed you the town yet?"

I'm much more comfortable now when he speaks to me, so I smile politely and shake my head. "We were going to walk around, but with all the rain …" I trail and shrug my shoulders.

"Perfect. How about Alice and I both take you on the tour? Besides, I actually _live _in Forks, so I bet I'll be better at telling you what's what and who's who. You know, all the important things."

He's kind of silly and funny and …. _Adorable?_

"Let's go before Charlie gets home," Alice suggests before I've even agreed to Edward's request. As if I'd turn him down anyway.

She grabs me by the hand and begins to pull me towards the steps. Edward frowns just a fraction, and I'm curious about what has made him unhappy. _Wasn't he the one to suggest this?_

Before I can question the sudden change in attitude his face relaxes and he joins us on the sidewalk.

"Ladies first," he instructs with a motion of his hand, and we begin the tedious task of showing me around a town that up until this moment I've had little to no interest in knowing.

_**An: **__This may seem mild for Bella first meeting Edward, but they're young, shy teenagers so bear with me. I also don't believe that thirteen is too young to develop feelings for a boy, or even "fall in love." This is what Bella feels, whether she understands those emotions or not. All she knows is that the geeky, swearing, funny guy next door is causing all sorts of sensations that she's highly unfamiliar with. Remember what I said before, in the summary? That Bella and Edward's love was all-consuming, and therefore it is likely that they were wrapped up in their emotions from the very beginning. _

_Not all of the "past" chapters will be step-by-step like the last three have been. I have eleven years of ground to cover, so time will move along in some as well. It's a slow burn to finding out what went wrong. I do hope you enjoy taking the journey with me!_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__I love hearing your predictions in your reviews, even if it is not what I actually plan to happen. Thank you to those who have taken the time to review. I hope you now enjoy reading some sentimental Alice & Bella moments. You may be left with more questions than answers, but all will be revealed sooner or later. Slow burn, remember? Oh, and these chapters are still unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine._

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 7

_**Present …**_

There's an awkward moment of silence as neither of us speaks. I'm not sure if she's afraid to answer, or if she really doesn't have one.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the events of the past forty-eight hours. I returned to Forks for the first time in at least five years, I buried my father only yesterday, I saw the man whom I've loved for nearly half my life, and now I am being confronted by my former best friend.

Nothing seems like reality anymore.

My eyes are glued to Alice's round, protruding stomach. It's hard to ignore the lurking sadness I feel at seeing her in this state. But it's nothing I've not felt before when in the presence of someone pregnant. It's a ghost of regret; a life lost that could've been mine.

And then I think of you, Edward, and I wonder if you know.

_Do you know how much I've lost? How many regrets I have?_

The line my thoughts have taken is a dangerous route I should not travel. There's been too much sadness already, so I'm quick to refocus.

I take another moment to study my cousin, and I'm happy to see that pregnancy suits her. Despite the look of apprehension upon her face, she's glowing.

In fact, even with her hair cut short and fuller figure, Alice is still as beautiful as she always has been.

I can feel the familiar twinge of jealousy fighting its way up from deep within, but I hold it back. It's not Alice's fault for my own lack of self-esteem. And I want more than anything to repair the damage between us.

Shaking my thoughts away, I ask my question again. "Why?" It comes out much softer than before, my tone no longer accusatory, but instead pleading.

Alice's eyes fill with tears and her chin trembles, "I'm sorry."

She sniffles, and I feel a little bit more of the wall I've put up between us breaking away. I hate to see her cry.

She's obviously as upset, no doubt the extra hormones fueling her emotions. I remember a time I cried over a dropped bite of ice cream on the pavement.

And then my mind wanders to you, and I think to myself, _Will I tell you all my secrets?_

I want to, if you'll let me.

But right now I must focus on Alice, and I don't want to make her feel even more guilty by demanding further explanation from her, even though I'd like to; because not telling me about her unborn baby is almost as hurtful as all the things I've done to her.

_Maybe._

_Maybe not._

Instead I ask a much easier question. It's a safe question, simple, but one I'm dying to know.

"When are you due?"

Her face instantly transforms, a bright smile appears, and I love how she lights up at the mere mention of her future child.

"I'm due on Christmas!" She explains proudly, a little bit of the Alice I used to know finally shining through.

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I even manage a smile in return. "It's fitting then, seeing as that is your favorite holiday."

"It is, isn't it?"

Momentarily it's as if the past several years haven't happened. I feel like we're sixteen again, my last summer spent in Forks, and the easy friendship we shared has been left untouched.

Unfortunately the moment doesn't last, and I remember that reality shows a much grimmer picture.

There's a heavy pause in the conversation, her brows pucker, and her smile slips into its former frown.

"I'm very sorry about your Dad."

Once again I'm forced to remember why I am in Forks again; only hearing the reminder from Alice is much different than every time before.

I've listened to apologies and condolences from every person I've spoken to since the moment I found out about my father's death. And with each person I bob my head in thanks, sometimes I even mutter the word in return, and on the rare occasion I allow the hug or handshake they will offer.

Never once have I completely broken down. In fact, other than the surge of emotion yesterday as I address my father's family and friends, I have not cried more than a few stray tears.

I don't because I just don't know how.

I've spent years bottling up my emotions, hiding them, and then locking them up carefully in a deep, dark place inside myself. It's one of the few things I'm good at – avoiding the need to feel – but it's also one of many things I am trying desperately to change.

If I can change, maybe I can put my life back together.

_Maybe then you can be mine again. _Then again,I am not foolish enough to hope for such a thing.

But because it is Alice, the one person who was always there for me, who offers me her sorrow for my loss, I finally feel myself becoming overwhelmed.

I choke back a sob, blinking back instant tears. "Thank you."

Then she's there, the distance between us no more and her pregnant belly pushing against mine. Her arms wrap around my neck and mine hug her as best I can around the waist.

I didn't realize until then how much I needed this. For the first time in days I feel relief, and I let myself relax in Alice's embrace. She's willing to set aside our past, for even a moment, to console me.

I look over her shoulder to see you peering out the front window. You are focused on the sight of Alice and me hugging tightly as we shed mutual tears of pain.

This moment belongs to us, however, so I don't try to catch your eyes.

A few moments pass, and I know it's my turn to give a little since Alice has already apologized.

"I've missed you," I admit when she pulls away.

Alice wipes a stray tear from under her eye. I do the same.

"I've missed you too."

We're not healed, not completely, nor is all forgiven, but this moment is big for us. It's the foundation for rebuilding our relationship, our friendship. It's not as if we were only friends once, we're family.

Family is for life.

The front door clicks open, and we both turn. I expect to see you standing there, but instead Alice's mother is smiling down at us.

"Good, you girls made up. Now get your butts in here to help me please."

We laugh because Aunt Mary has her hands on her hips and she already looks like a sweaty mess. She has yellow, rubber cleaning gloves on her hands and a red, polka-dotted apron tied around her waist.

I would bet anything that it's the same set of gloves and apron she wore when we were kids.

Once back inside my aunt takes no pause in ordering us around.

Taking Alice's condition into account there is little she is able to do, so she is tasked with sorting through the bathroom cabinets. I realize then why you have been asked over. Alice is still able to pack, but you can help to move the boxes.

I've been ordered to start on the living room while Aunt Mary finishes the kitchen. Her plan is to follow behind me as I pack so she can scrub and dust.

She hasn't given you a specific task, which does not escape my notice, but I am relieved when you pick up an empty box and follow behind me.

We may not be alone, but it is the perfect opportunity to attempt to get you talking to me again.

_Let me just listen to the sound of your voice. _

If I'm lucky enough, maybe you'll even tell me a little about your life, now.

There is so much I do not know.

Like how when you walk over to the mantle and look at the photographs displayed there you show the same stiff posture I saw yesterday. _What changed you?_

"I remember this."

Your tone is soft, but I catch every word.

I abandon the end table where I am tossing magazines into a trash bag and walk up next to you, curious.

You point to the photograph in front of you, an expression I cannot determine clouding your face.

The picture is one I remember well. Four youthful faces smile back at me, and I am overcome with nostalgia.

I have no idea why Charlie would chose this photo, out of all the ones ever taken, to be placed upon his mantle. Then I remember - it was taken my last summer here, on the night before I left to return to Phoenix.

_I should've come back._

In it Alice and I have our arms hooked around each other's shoulders, cheeky grins upon our lips. Alice's hair then was still straight and long, hanging down to nearly her waist, whereas I had gone through a faze and chopped mine short in a spikey, pixie cut.

To Alice's right is Jasper. Blond wavy hair, blue eyes, and entirely enamored with my cousin. I remember then I forgot to ask where he is. _I'll have to ask Alice. _

Finally I take in the person on my left. Unruly dark hair, one-sided smirk, and ripped up jeans describes the Edward in the photo. The sight of our past staring me in the face makes my heart pound.

_This was taken only a few months before it all changed … _

Edward from the past is nothing like you. You are one and the same, but with your short hair, serious expressions, and perfect neat clothing I wonder how much of what I remember remains.

"Yeah, I remember too."

_**An: **__Reviews let me know you like what I'm writing. And I like to know what you think. _


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__Another update! This chapter just kind of poured out of me. It's a lot of Edward, a lot of cutesy, teenage fluff, and hopefully it makes up for the gloominess that was last chapter. I love you guys for all the story and author alerts, seriously, thank you!_

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 8

_**Back in the past …**_

Halfway through our walk Edward's fingers brush against mine.

It's casual in the sort of way one might think it was an accident. But when it happens a second time … and then a third, I'm more than a little sure he's doing it on purpose.

Alice has long since released my other hand, so until this point I've left my arms hanging freely by my sides. I won't deny that I've allowed my right arm to extend out a little further than necessary, seeking out the electrifyingly confusing touch that Edward's skin causes when it touches mine.

I wonder if Alice has noticed how close Edward and I are as we walk. It's not _too _close, so if a stranger were to see us it wouldn't seem that we're together. However, we're much closer than two people who just met a short time before would typically walk.

With each step we take Edward tells me about the town of Forks. He starts with the houses on my Father's street, telling me silly stories about the people who live inside them. Sometimes you can tell he's made something up completely, just to entertain Alice and I, but other times he's serious in his explanations.

Occasionally Alice will chime in with some of her knowledge from the times she's visited, and I nod along in feigned interest. It's not that I'm _not _interested in listening to Edward talk, but I'm still not all that interested in knowing more about Forks than is absolutely necessary.

The further into town we get the more animated he becomes. I can tell he takes pride in his town, as he should, even if to me it looks like nothing more than a run-down, middle-of-no-where place to live. In fact, the more I listen to him speak so fervently, the guiltier I feel about how much I've judged the place.

When we come up to the main four-way stop in town we stop to wait for the light to change, and I can't help but interrupt. "How long have you lived here?"

I'm rewarded with one his adorable crooked grins. "All my life," he tells me without a single hint of bitterness. He doesn't seem to mind that he's lived in one place since the day he was born.

I, on the other hand, could count five different states I'd lived in before I was six. Phoenix is the longest I've ever lived anywhere. I wonder what it's like to know the same people from the time you start kindergarten until you're in High School.

"You go to Forks High, don't you?" Alice questions beside me.

"Yep," he pops the 'p' but offering no further information. I really want to ask what grade he's in, or better yet, how old he is. I know if he's too much older than me then my crush will be for nothing because there is no way I'll be allowed to spend time with a much older boy, even with Alice around to chaperone.

My cousin and I must be thinking along the same lines because her next question is the one I've just been thinking.

"And you'll be what? A freshman?"

Her tone is casual, but I know she's asking this for me, and I kind of want to hug her right now.

The light turns red, and the crosswalk sign lights up, so we step off the sidewalk and begin to cross what Edward calls "the highway." In reality it's a two lane road that leads in and out of town and therefore has the most amount of traffic.

Which when compared to the streets in Phoenix, is very little.

"Sophomore actually."

_Two years older, that's not _too _bad. Right?_

Alice continues her inquiry.

"So you're fifteen, just like Jasper?"

"Yeah. I mean, being in the same grade and classes is how he and I became best friends."

Edward gives her the side-eye, like she should already know this information. Which she probably does, but she's risking looking like an idiot anyway just to help me out.

"That's right, I remember now," she says with a smile.

I turn to mouth "thank you," no longer looking where I'm walking. My feet connect with the curb of the sidewalk, and I feel myself tipping forward.

_No, please, don't let me fall on my face. _

I'm bracing myself for impact, but it never comes. It appears Edward's reflexes are much quicker than mine because his hand shoots out and grabs me by the elbow, steadying me before I fall.

"Whoa, careful there."

While I'm thankful he has saved me from the humiliation of kissing the pavement, I'm utterly embarrassed to have tripped. I should have been paying more attention to my feet and less attention to him.

_As if that'll happen._

I manage enough courage to look him in the eye, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach get the better of me. Up close like this Edward's eyes are clearer: the color of forest green with just a hint of blue around the edges. It's quite fitting for him. And I decide that his eyes are now my favorite part of him.

"Thank you."

He smiles warmly at my words, and it is then I realize his hand hasn't left my arm. I'm entirely aware of the heat of him soaking through my thin shirt. I'm cursing myself for not wearing shorter sleeves.

"Walk much Bella?" Alice's teasing jibe causes me to blush and look away from Edward.

I choose not to respond, though I do shoot her a dirty glare and stick my tongue out, just as she did earlier at Edward. _What can I say? Maturity runs in the family._

Alice's teases are forgotten, however, when Edward's hand slips from my elbow and down my arm. His hands slides against mine until our fingers are interwoven.

I'm equal parts shocked and equal parts giddy that he's holding my hand.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and leans over to whisper in my ear as we start walking again. "Is this okay?"

I don't have any words so I simply grip his hand a little harder to show I don't want him to let me go.

We continue the rest of our "Tour of Forks" like this: hands held tightly between us, Alice to our side. I know she notices but thankfully, for once, she doesn't comment. I know I won't be as lucky later on when Edward is back in his own home, and Alice and I are once again alone.

When the sun begins to set we head back, and I try to invite Edward over for dinner, but declines, stating that he should spend some time with his parents. Apparently his Dad is leaving for a business trip tomorrow, and so he is needed home.

I try not to show my disappointment, but the pout on my lips makes it utterly obvious.

He releases my hand and back away. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

I'm already nodding, but Alice responds, "Absolutely! Come knock on the door whenever Jasper shows up."

"It was nice to meet you Bella."

His face is trained on mine, smiling. _Tomorrow is too far away to see him again._

"It was nice meeting you too."

Alice and I no sooner make it through the front door before she pounces. "I KNEW IT!"

She's jumping up and down, cheering loudly, and I'm overcome with worry that Edward may hear her next door. Or perhaps every neighbor on the street will hear her because she's yelling _that _loudly.

"Shh!" I hiss. "Knew what?"

She stops long enough to give me a triumphant grin. "I knew you'd be perfect for each other."

I roll my eyes because I'm not admitting anything, _yet. _I want to make her sweat a little.

"Whatever Alice."

When Charlie comes home that night he brings us pizza, and joins us for a movie downstairs. I still feel like I'm floating after my afternoon with Edward, and I can't help but forget all about my plans to give my Dad a hard time.

Instead I manage a conversation about what I learned about Forks. Alice and I tell him about our town tour, though we both leave out the part about Edward joining us. Charlie seems happy that I've taken the initiative to get to know the place, and for a moment I'm pleased that I've given him this small piece of encouragement.

When I fall asleep that night my thoughts are no longer about when counting down the days left until I return to Phoenix. Instead I'm dreaming about forest green eyes, crooked smiles, and the minutes until I can see Edward again.

_**An: **__For every review you leave me I'll offer you a small fun fact about the story. _


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Twilight._

_**An: **__I'm baaack! I cannot even begin to apologize for disappearing, but so much has happened over the last year that it is ridiculous. Not only did I buy my first house, I also graduated college, AND I'm pregnant! Little one #3 is due this September. I feel like I am finally in a place to enjoy writing again, so I hope to pick up where I left off and continue this story because it means so much to me._

_For those who previously commented about Edward & Bella moving quickly, don't you remember having a crush at a young age? Wouldn't you have liked nothing more to be holding hands with that person as a confirmation of returned feelings?_

Can't Help Myself: Chapter 9

_**Present …**_

We work in quiet tandem. Our movements resemble a choreographed dance because when I move, you move; although you are very careful to keep a certain distance between us, making sure that we never touch.

My plan to get to know you, this "you" that I don't recognize is futile. I am unsure of what to say, and you don't say a word.

Yet the silence is not uncomfortable, although somehow it is not quite comfortable either.

Being in your presence keeps me constantly on edge. A delusional part of me feels that we are the old Bella and Edward seen in the photograph that is currently hidden in my purse. I had snuck it there when you left to use the bathroom. All the ones I used to own have been gone a long time now.

But when I reach out to hand you a stack of books and you hesitate before taking them from me I am reminded once more that we are nothing like the versions of ourselves who last stood in this living room together.

Your lack of conversation pushes me to assume you are not ready or willing to talk, so I don't push you, and instead I settle for watching you from the corner of my eye as I pack. Alice and her mother are scarcely seen other than to ask me a question about a possession of my father's. My typical response is to do with it as they please, and therefore their inquiries are fewer as time goes on.

Your movements are precise, rigid, and formal. It's an oddity I can't come to terms with. Again I wonder what has changed you so much.

Another hour passes like this: I toss items into either boxes or trash bags and you carry them outside or to the garage as needed. A few times Alice or Aunt Mary calls you away to help them instead, and I take that time to breathe deeply and relax as best I can.

My body and mind are struggling with the same feelings are the day before. The knowledge that you are close, yet unattainable is physically painful. A small part of me wants to ask you to leave just so I can be at peace, but I never will because being without you is almost just as bad.

I am grateful when the final box from the living room is packed. You are elsewhere, having been called away again by Alice, so I have no problems carrying it out to the garage myself.

Perhaps it is my muddled, conflicted brain distracting me, but when I walk through the entryway and into the kitchen I feel as if I have been electrocuted.

The bare skin of your arm has brushed against mine, leaving a trail of hot, tingly skin in its wake. It is the smallest of touches, but my arm feels like it has been set on fire, and for the first time in years I feel alive. _Are you affected to?_

The box jolts slightly in my arms as I jump involuntarily at the unexpected touch. Somehow I manage to keep ahold of it, if only just barely. In the moment I am not sure if I should panic, cry, or rejoice at having felt you so close to me.

You make the decision for me when I turn to catch your eye, only to realize you have already retreated up the stairs without so much as a backward glance.

My eyes begin to well immediately, but it's nothing a few deep breaths won't will away. I continue through the kitchen and into the garage, not even noticing my aunt standing just a few feet away, a witness to all that had just happened.

For the rest of the day you make yourself scarce. The only time I see you again is when you should up to eat the meager lunch of sandwiches and chips I picked up for the gas station down the street.

Eventually I give up even looking to see if you will reappear in the same room as me and instead I seek out Alice, both to help her and further take steps towards mending our friendship further.

When I find her we agree to start on Charlie's bedroom. It is the last room that needs sorting through. Either by instinct or the look at my face she knows how hard it is for me to be in there, so she keeps me conveniently preoccupied with chatter about her pregnancy, life in Seattle, and Jasper. It turns out he had a business meeting out of town and cannot make it here until tomorrow. I am ever so grateful for her distraction.

When she asks me about Jacksonville I answer elusively, not ready to discuss certain aspects of my personal life just yet. Alice picks up on this immediately.

"How are Renee and Phil?" she asks instead.

I shrug. "They're happier than I've seen them in a while," I answer truthfully. My mother's relationship with my step-father had been rocky at best in the beginning, but through the years they've worked it out and remained strong together. "I think they're planning a vacation together soon," I add.

"I'm a bit surprised she didn't come with you," she states quietly, probably not wanting to offend me.

It's the first time I think I've smiled all day. "She said something about it 'not being her place.' I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but I think it translates into her not being comfortable here. "

Alice nods. "Makes sense."

In reality I know there is no way on Earth my mother would have come all the way to Forks, WA from Florida in order to attend a funeral for a man she hadn't seen thirteen years, even if they had once been married. Some may call it selfish, but I understand her feelings behind the matter.

We finish just before dinner.

I barely recognize Charlie's room, let alone the rest of the house. It feels bare and unnatural as we walk through it now.

When Alice and I descend the steps her mom is sitting in the recliner, feet propped up. She looks worn down and tired.

Edward is nowhere to found.

"He's not here," Aunt Mary states when she catches me sweeping the room for any sign of him.

"Oh?" I respond casually, perhaps too casually.

My aunt quirks a brow at me, the same look Alice used to give me when we were younger. "Don't play coy, it doesn't work on me."

I blush and bite my lip, looking down at my feet.

"His mom called and asked him to run an errand for her. He left about ten minutes ago," she informs me.

I sigh involuntarily in relief. My hope is that he only left because his mom called and not because he was in a desperate hurry to be away from me.

It is inevitable I will see him again during my stay seeing as his parents still live in the house next door. But it is then I realize I do not know if he still lives in Forks and if not, then how long he plans to stay. I make a mental note to ask Alice later to see if she knows. _Perhaps he and Jasper are still in touch._

Later, when Alice and her mom are both gone, I ascend the steps to what was once my room. I am unprepared for the stark bareness of the room when I open the door. The photo collages, leftover trinkets from my youth, and other miscellaneous item left behind from childhood are no longer scattered carelessly. I wonder briefly who came in here to clean through it, but I don't dwell on the thought. Whoever it was, I am grateful to them. If there was one room in the house aside from Charlie's that I dreaded sorting through, it was mine.

I'm a disgusting mess, but my body is too tired to justify taking a shower. Instead I collapse on my bed, pulling the well-loved quilt up to my chin, and I promptly fall asleep.


End file.
